Streets of New Olympia, 9:04 P.M.
Atlanta knew that Archie had followed her. She could hear him calling for her nearly a block away, but nothing that he could say would matter now.
Why do I care? Atlanta thought, suddenly, skidding to a stop. Why do I care what he thinks of me? It's not as if I…oh, gods. I do not like him. I will never like him. I never have liked him.
Archie was beginning to catch up to Atlanta, now. She began to run again.
I do not, I do not, I do not…
At that moment, a small photograph fell out of Atlanta's pocket and landed on one of the few parts of the sidewalk that wasn't entirely underwater. Atlanta paused again, going to pick it up.
That's when she saw who it was.
She was in the photo, along with Archie. They were both laughing, and Archie had one arm slung around Atlanta's shoulders.
Atlanta remembered that photo. Archie had one exactly like it. They had taken those photos just a couple weeks previously, promising to keep them for as long as the two remained friends. Teresa often joked that Atlanta was blushing in that photo, and Atlanta always denied it. But now, she realized that it was true.
A small tear rolled down Atlanta's cheek as she tore herself away from the photograph and continued to run.
She was almost home by the time that Archie arrived at the spot where she had been. She didn't see his look of disappointment as he found the photo lying on the muddy ground. She couldn't tell that his heart was breaking right them and there as he pocketed it half heartedly, wondering if she would ever forgive him. She didn't see him as he stood alone in the rain, wondering how long it took to freeze to death. And she didn't see Penelope come and lead him away, in the warmth of her embrace.
All that Atlanta saw were memories. Memories that she wanted very much to forget.
